


Together This Time

by Lalaith_Raina (Mirtathor)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Drama, Falling In Love, M/M, Reunions, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirtathor/pseuds/Lalaith_Raina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Legolas wishes to be noticed by the lord of his house in Gondolin, but before he gets his chance it is taken from him. At least, until another age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together This Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Esteliel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esteliel/gifts).



_The first week of archery lessons, Rosdir was the star of the class. His father was an archer under Lord Glorfindel's command, and had given him personal tips passed to him from the lord himself. So of course he was a natural, making the other boys look absurd as he stood there getting bull's-eye after bull's-eye. Lord Glorfindel called him out by name, showing the other boys his form and that he was a good model to imitate given their similar builds and sizes, rather than trying to copy him.  
  
Legolas had tried his best, had expected to be the top of the class, but instead he was barely mediocre. He made several attempts to get a good shot but only managed to hit the edge of his own circle at the end of the field. Glorfindel merely nodded at him and smiled, as he was better than most but not as good as some. He was just another good enough, and it wasn't great or poor enough to get a pat on the head or a personal lesson.  
  
The second week he tried harder. He practiced his archery every single night in-between so that he'd hit the center every time. His arms hurt so badly he'd had trouble in his classes because carrying books or even lifting his arm to write was misery, but it was worth it whenever he thought of the upcoming class. He'd be the best now, and everyone would be told to look at Legolas as he preened before their golden lord and did better than any student had ever done before.  
  
He smiled as he tried to catch the lord's eye at their lesson, standing straight as he notched his bow and arrow and eyed the target. His glance darted across to Glorfindel and he frowned as he saw he wasn't being watched, shifting his stance and tapping his foot. No response. Sighing in frustration he loosed the arrow, striking the center of the target. Beside him, Maenas gasped and leaned over to congratulate him, but his lord's back was still to him and no words were as meaningful as one smile from the golden elf.  
  
Glorfindel only looked over belatedly and grinned, nodding to the youth. Legolas straightened immediately, beaming back at the instructor. Surely now he'd get a pat on the head or shoulder, maybe he would tell everyone they should try to be more like him, perhaps they'd talk archery later.  
  
"Very nice form! Keep up the good work," the lord applauded, clapping as he walked past to help the cheering child on his other side.  
  
Legolas lined up another shot, knowing Glorfindel would be able to see him out of the corner of his eyes now as he took aim and let loose another arrow. But where he expected to be applauded and congratulated for hitting close to his last shot, instead he was ignored.  
  
"Don't fear, Maenas, you're getting there. You've improved since last week, after all. I see you've worked on your footwork?"  
  
To add insult to injury, the lord remembered the other boy's name, but not his star pupil's. Legolas bit down on his lip as he stalked across the field to fetch his arrows, bending to grab some strays of his classmates as well.  
  
He yelped as something hit him hard in the back of his knee, buckling it and dropping him to the ground. Laughter behind him and gasps made him turn to see that Maenas had missed his target again. He nearly cried with the frustration of it all, but it paid off when he finally got noticed._   
  
\- - -   
  
It's a lovely spring day. Legolas looks around at the surrounding forest, closing his eyes to take a deep breath of sweet pine and oak, listening to the falls just around the bend in the path that trickle into a stream around the clearing. Father felt it would be best for him to spend some time in Rivendell, to be with the elves there and develop ties and bonds. It wasn't exactly his first choice -- he'd much rather be out there fighting with everyone else, if he could, making a difference -- but it had been a nice change of pace.   
  
"Legolas!"   
  
He turns, smiling as he sees a springy elf racing down the path to him, skipping along the steep hill and sending little rocks flying on his way. "Elrohir, careful! No rush, little rider, I'll be here all year."   
  
The young elf chuckles as he skids to a stop and looks around, checking Legolas' targets. "Did you hear the news?" he asks distractedly, eyeing a tree trunk with an arrow pinning four leaves to it enviously. "We're going to have a guest! Father got word from Cirdan, but he won't tell Dan or I who it is." He looks again to his mentor and grins. "Think you could ask for us? He'll tell you."   
  
"If he didn't tell you, little rider, I imagine there was a reason for that," Legolas responds with a smirk, glancing over to see what had caught his gaze. "But I will see what I can do," he continues, interrupting the pouting and whining that was only just starting. "For now, perhaps we shall work on your bow skill more, hm? I bet you could easily best my measly warm-up shots."   
  
Elrohir shrugs, a bashful and timid smile on his face as he fetches the spare bow that had been conveniently brought to the training fields as well. "I bet your adar taught you how to shoot, didn't he?" he asks, lingering to look back up at the large house hanging over and behind them.   
  
Pausing, Legolas also looks up at the house. For a moment he can see instead a towering manor, green and gold banner out front and wildly overgrown daffodils and vines around the white stone walls. For a moment he can hear men hawking their wares and the bells tolling a council meeting coming into session. The moment passes and he's back in Rivendell, looking up towards the open balconies of the sprawling house. "No, actually, he didn't. The lord of our house did. He was an excellent teacher." He smiles sadly and takes a deep breath, turning to look to the other elf peering back at him curiously. "Come. Let's work on your stance again."   
  
Elrohir took up his stance and sighed in agitation as his mentor tapped his thigh lightly to shift him into a more balanced pose.   
  
\- - -   
  
_In shadowing Glorfindel many mornings on his way to council meetings, Legolas had noticed a common trend. Aside from the fact that the lord paused often and long to speak with the people of his house, from soldiers to farmers and everyone in-between, he always had a sweet roll in his hand. He always seemed so careful about his diet, but his one weakness was the glazed sweet rolls, sticky and sweet and sugary and hot, fresh from the ovens first thing at dawn. He often shared generously, asking parents before breaking off a piece of the sweet to hand to a child with a wink. A few times it had been Legolas gifted with a morsel, and despite his insistence he wasn't a child, he was willing to concede for a treat.  
  
One morning he had decided it was time to get noticed for something else. Archery was nice, but he was neither excellent enough nor terrible enough to get remembered. He was merely the 'star pupil'. Not a name, a pupil. But surely if he perfected a recipe for sweet rolls, he would get recognized. And that was considered a sweet gesture, too, so it would also get him noticed.  
  
His mother had been amused by the sudden culinary interest but, not wanting to quell any new culinary talents that might appear, she was happy to let him into the kitchen and onto a stool to aid her in the daily meals. He started as vegetable chopper -- nobody would be impressed by evenly chopped carrots, mother -- and worked his way up to meat seasoner -- better, mom, but can't I make something fun? -- and finally earned himself the title of sweet roll student. She had assumed that he was interested in another young lady in his age group, and had been quietly entertained at his efforts to woo whoever the lucky lady was. He was happy to let her continue assuming that. His technique improved, and he showed excellent skill in caution at using an oven until he was allowed to cook without constant supervision.  
  
So it was that another morning he made some sweet rolls, and left most at home for his family. One he took and wrapped in a piece of cloth (gold, naturally) and ran with it into the market. It was still mostly empty as he made his way to the lord's manor, knocking on the door and being greeted by a housemaid. She let him in with a smile and nodded him towards the study, and Legolas felt secure that he would have out-cooked the house chef even though it smelled good in the front hall.  
  
"Milord?" he asked, voice soft as he peeked around the corner.  
  
Glorfindel looked up and smiled and set his papers aside. "Ah, yes, come in. You're up early, young one. What can I do for you?"  
  
"I made something for you." Legolas could feel his cheeks heating as he set the package on the corner of the desk and stepped back shyly. "I hope you like it."  
  
The golden lord tilted his head, curious but friendly, and lifted the package. "Ooh, something warm," he mused, watching the child's reaction more than he watched the package. The gold fabric fell open to reveal the sticky bun and he glanced down, surprised. "For me?"  
  
"Yes, milord."  
  
"And you woke early to make it, too? Did you make one for yourself, I hope?"  
  
Legolas chewed on the inside of his cheek, uncertain what to make of the reaction. "Yes, milord."  
  
He chuckled and tore the bun in half, holding it out to the boy. "I insist nonetheless. An early riser deserves something extra for their work. Thank you, ah..." He trailed off then, and it was to Legolas' delight to see a faint pink to the elder's cheeks as well.  
  
"Legolas, milord."  
  
"Legolas," he repeated, smiling once more. "Thank you, Legolas."  
  
The sound of his name on those lips was far sweeter than any bun._   
  
\- - -   
  
"Ro, this is not… are you sure that was sugar?"   
  
"Yes! It was this right here, which is definitely su- oh."   
  
"Oh."   
  
"Look, it's a simple mistake, here, honestly, look! Oh please, stop giving me that-"   
  
"Everything alright?" Legolas asks, stepping backwards to peer around the corner into the expansive kitchen. He doesn't even listen as the twins start telling two different versions of the event, instead letting his eyes trail over the scene. Flour on clothes and counters and floor and hair, a bowl tipped onto its side to reveal contents that eerily appear solid, utensils dirtied and everywhere, and a tray of flat, burnt looking cookies.   
  
As Elrohir and Elladan both keep pointing fingers and placing blame, he steps lightly over the spills and messes to pick a cookie up between thumb and finger, sniffing at it cautiously before giving it a light nibble. It's only out of sheer strength of will and friendship that he doesn't spit it back out. "Salt," he confirms. "What cookies were these supposed to be?"   
  
"Honey buns," both boys say together, scowling at their counterpart.   
  
Legolas looks around at the mess once more and smiles. "Honey buns? A specialty of mine, actually. Perhaps I could help?"   
  
"Oh, please-"   
  
"Well I don't know-"   
  
And the rest is lost in a jumble of young elves with identical voices speaking two different ideas at the same time.   
  
"Stop!" After a beat of silence, Legolas laughs wearily and puts a hand to his head. "If you're going to talk at the same time, at least make it easier to understand."   
  
"We're making them for mother-"   
  
"They're her favorite, you know."   
  
"Because she's feeling unwell and we thought it'd be nice to give her a treat in bed."   
  
There's another beat before Elladan snorts. "Even a mother couldn't love these."   
  
Legolas can't argue that. "I used to make these as a treat for a dear friend of mine. I could show you the same way my mother taught me. But first, we need to clean up this mess; I don't think your mother would appreciate this surprise."   
  
It doesn't take too long, working together, for the three to clean up their mess in the kitchen. The bowl of solid goop has to be sacrificed, but Legolas doesn't imagine it will be sorely missed. He can always try to carve them a new wooden bowl, if the lord and lady would like a replacement. With a clean area, they begin again, Legolas setting the boys into separate stations of wet and dry ingredients, letting them trade off the combined steps as they wish. As the new rolls -- puffier, sweeter, and in the proper states -- cook, they talk idly.   
  
"So your mom taught you?" Elladan asks, licking a spoon of the sugary syrup topping.   
  
Fetching two more spoons for Elrohir and himself, Legolas nods. "Yes. I wanted to impress someone with their favorite treat, and she didn't see any harm in teaching her son how to cook. Surely your mother has taught you?"   
  
"She taught me a bit, but I never really liked it. I prefer the eating part," Elrohir shrugs, popping his spoon into his mouth with a grin.   
  
The smell of sweet rolls fills the room and Legolas ushers them over to watch the oven, pointing out the rise and browning of the edges of the buns, teaching them a trick of poking into a roll to see if the center is still sticky and wet. He helps them dish out the treats without burning themselves and steadies them as they prepare to walk the tray upstairs. Elrohir pauses, though, turning to look up at their mentor with a curious look.   
  
"Did your 'friend' like their rolls?" he asks, brow arched and a curious look on his face.   
  
Legolas smiles fondly at the memory of that first morning. "He did. Now go on and enjoy your hard work."   
  
\- - -   
  
_The midsummer festivities were fast approaching, and after the traditional day of waiting and night of meditation came a dance. The older elves spent the time with loved ones, just holding them close and often retiring to private quarters to enjoy the sunrise personally. But the youths took it as an opportunity to celebrate and find their own loved ones, wearing extravagant outfits and dancing until they collapsed with exhaustion.  
  
Most boys his age had already found the girls they planned to dance with, already asked for the pleasure of their company through the night to giggles and nods, but Legolas had no plans. A few brave girls had taken the nerve to ask him themselves, only to shrug and blush and go back to their friends to bitterly complain about their spurned advances. He watched his desired partner nervously, chewing on his lip as he tried to talk himself in and out of it. It was really all about how he asked, he decided. It was about the flair and style, about presenting himself like a mature young elf and making his company seem irresistible. But how did he do that?  
  
Finally he decided to do as most of the other boys had done and went to his desired date when he knew they would be alone. He knocked on the office door, finding it propped open. Lord Glorfindel was within, standing beside his desk and speaking to one of his captains. "Ah, Legolas! I'm sorry, Raunion, I'll meet you on the field shortly," he apologized to the other elf, nodding to him sharply as he left. Legolas felt his stomach drop into a bottomless pit and hoped it didn't show in his face. "What can I do for you? Here, please, sit."  
  
Legolas sat and wrung his hands in his lap, looking everywhere but at Glorfindel. He studied a paperweight instead, carved to look like a rose and painted with some sort of sheen to make it look gold.  
  
"Is everything alright? If there is a problem, I hope you know that you can speak to me," the lord said, leaning forward and folding his hands on the desk.  
  
"I- I wanted to know if you- do you celebrate Tarnin Austa?" he asked, cursing himself silently at how timid he sounded, how his voice shook.  
  
Glorfindel hesitated and that pause said everything for him, but valar bless him, he didn't show any difference in expression. "Of course. I assume you've already found a young lady or five to go with you."  
  
"They asked, but I'm not interested in ladies." He had to just say it, it'd be better once it was out. "I'm more interested in men, and certainly none young and foolish."  
  
There was a slight smile on his lord's face now, amused at his childish attitude. "Ah, I see. And you're having trouble finding a suitable male for your qualifications?"  
  
"I wanted you to accompany me," he blurted. It had seemed like saying it would make it easier, but the weight of the words in the air was nearly a solid weight on his chest and he wished immediately that he could have taken them back and erased their memory. The moments ticked by before he gathered the courage to look up and see first his hands, picking at dirt under the nails idly and roughly, then to his face, etched with lines and a horrifying combination of sorrow and discomfort.  
  
"I'm sorry, Legolas, but I'm afraid I'm a bit old for you, aren't I?" he finally offered.  
  
"I don't think so. I'm often told I'm older than my years."  
  
Glorfindel smiled at that, but it was a sad sort of smile. A pitying one. "That you are. Perhaps, little elder, once you have reached your majority you might ask me again. But I think by then, you'll have found another lad, one your age, who truly captures your heart. I'm honored to have your fancy, Legolas. Another ellon will be honored to have your love."  
  
Legolas sat as his lord stood and ruffled his hair a bit awkwardly as he walked past to leave the office. Legolas remained alone._   
  
\- - -   
  
It is a lovely spring day, everything green and blooming in the valley. The special guest of Cirdan is expected to be arriving in the evening, and the house is a flurry of gossip and excitement. Though the word spread swiftly about the arrival of someone new, the one thing that remained secret was the someone's identity. Elrond had remained tight-lipped on the subject of their addition to the household, only telling select members of his staff.   
  
Legolas would admit to being as curious as any child or housemaid was, but understood well enough why he wasn't included on the secret. He was a guest himself, after all, he had no business in the doings of Imladris' household.   
  
So instead he sits, sipping a glass of wine and listening to birds and flowing water outside his rooms. The twins sit further inside, bickering lightly and teasing one another. Legolas' room was a comfortable retreat, somewhere that they could go to get advice or companionship from someone who wasn't going to be a father, but could be as wise as one.   
  
"Just ask her! Honestly, it's like you expect a fight to the death over it, Ro, don't be such a baby."   
  
"Is that how you pick your girls, Dan? Fights to the death? That explains why they don't visit you much."   
  
He smirks, turning his head a bit to glance through the billowing curtains at the silhouettes within. "What's her name?" he calls.   
  
"Maeriel," Elrohir calls back, clambering over Legolas' bed to hop out onto the balcony with him. "She's the daughter of the chef, and sometimes we talk a bit, and she said she was going to be outside this evening to see whoever is coming."   
  
Legolas smiles as he turns and sits himself on the balcony rail, perched to watch as Elladan comes prowling around to sit beside his twin and nudge him with his shoulder. "And what is the question, then?"   
  
"He wants to take her out to eat, but he thinks it's weird to ask a chef's daughter to dinner where her mom would be cooking," Elladan supplied helpfully. "Which it would be."   
  
Legolas tilts his head and arches a brow. It is impossible to argue that logic. "True. Why not cook for her yourself?"   
  
As soon as he says it he knows his answer, and Elrohir's dry stare and arched brow are only emphasized by Elladan's snickering and doubled-over pose.   
  
"Ah, right, the salt cookies," Legolas concedes, smirking as Elrohir rolls his eyes and flops backwards. "Well, perhaps cater to one of your strengths then, Elrohir. Perhaps a nice evening in the library, reading poetry?"   
  
"Boring!" Elladan cheers.   
  
"A walk in the gardens then, enjoying her company?"   
  
"Cliché."   
  
"What, might I ask, would you suggest then?" Legolas drawls as he looks to the elder twin.   
  
Elladan sits forward and smirks. "So glad you asked. I'm thinking something that will totally blow her away -- dance with her in the hall of fire, for instance. Or sing her a song in front of people. Girls love when you embarrass yourself for their sake."   
  
"His ideas have merit," Legolas concedes. "But I suggest, Elrohir, that you do whatever you think would be best. You know your heart better than us, and it is you that needs to express your feelings. If we tell you how to do it, you are expressing our feelings. Just follow your instinct, and you should be fine."   
  
\- - -   
  
_It was a warm summer's day as Legolas and Thranduil stood in the courtyard. Bees buzzed before them, hovering from tulip to tulip before flitting up vines. Father had decided that it was time for son to meet his lord properly, to make a good impression and get acquainted with some of the nobles of Gondolin. Legolas was not so certain he was ready.  
  
"You'll be fine, little leaf. Remember to be polite, and call him 'my lord,' and just be yourself," Thranduil soothed, stroking the fine blond hair. "I know you're going to be just fine."  
  
Legolas intended to retort, but it was too late. Instead he hunched down and scooted to the side, hiding as someone strolled out of the double doors. His head was back and his eyes were closed, clearly appreciating the warm sunlight after a day at a desk.  
  
"Milord, I hope you are not too busy? My son was eager to meet you," his father called, hailing his lord with a grin.  
  
"Ah, I finally have the honor of meeting your leaf, do I? I have heard such stories!" The voice grew closer, and Legolas could see a soft, deep green boot in front of him. Before he could move to bow properly, though, there was a shift, and Glorfindel was on one knee to be at eye level with him. "Hello there," he said gently. "I'm Glorfindel. And what is your name, little one?"  
  
"Legolas," he whispered.  
  
The elf lord smiled and slowly extended a hand to the child, offering it for a shake. "Hello, Legolas. You might need to tell me that a few more times, I'm terrible with remembering names."  
  
The child nodded a few times, cheeks pink as one bright blue eye stared at the golden, large figure in front of him. "Okay." He gasped and covered his mouth, looking up at his father quickly. "I mean! Yes, milord."  
  
Glorfindel's laughter was sweet and gentle. "Please, little one! Glorfindel is fine. You don't need to be so formal."_   
  
\- - -   
  
The air is cool and sweet as it rustles robes and tunics. Legolas looks to his right and smiles to see Elrohir beside his brother, a lovely young lady standing not far away and grinning at him openly. Apparently, the youngest had a date tonight. Elladan nudges his twin and lifts a hand to shield his whispering, shaking with laughter as he gets a light swat in reply.   
  
"Elladan, Elrohir." Elrond need say nothing more as the twins straighten up and smooth out their expressions swiftly.   
  
In the distance, a small party approaches on horseback, winding their way down into the valley. Legolas narrows his eyes slightly as he stays in a resting stance, hands behind his back, trying to get some hint as to whom he is about to meet. Cirdan is easy to distinguish, and he recognizes a few of the other elves in the traveling party. But the elf beside the lord looks at once strange and familiar. His hair is long, exceptionally so, and glints gold in the sunlight. The sight of it makes his stomach flip unpleasantly.   
  
There is nothing to do but wait, watching them grow clearer and closer, until his breath catches and he looks sharply to his right. Elrond is smiling serenely, sparing him a single glance and arched brow. Perhaps this was the reason for the secrecy, then. How much could he know? But there is no more time to think, no more time to stall or consider a proper greeting or how formal or how friendly to be, because they are almost here, and Elrond is walking down the steps to greet them.   
  
Introductions are a blur and for a moment in time he is young again, hiding behind his father's calf and staring with wide eyes. Except today there is nowhere to hide his wide-eyed stares.   
  
"And this is a delegate from Mirkwood, formerly known as Greenwood," Elrond introduces, waving to him.   
  
Glorfindel is before him, as flawless as ever and smiling serenely. "Hello, councilor, is it? Glorfindel," he introduces himself, bowing grandly.   
  
It is a moment before Legolas can remember words, his throat constricting painfully and his heart hammering against his ribcage. A joke, then. Or perhaps they are keeping things a secret for now, about their past in Gondolin. A secret. There will be much gossip and rumor-mongering and he doesn't want to subject anyone else to it. "Legolas."   
  
"Legolas. You'll have to forgive me, Legolas, I'm terrible with names. Always have been," Glorfindel chuckles, looking up to see his face. There's an odd look in his eyes as he looks over the paling face.   
  
"No need to apologize, milord." His voice feels tight, choked, and he smiles tightly. It feels like the first song and dance. Is it intentional?   
  
"And please, Glorfindel is fine. No need for such formality, Legolas!" he laughs, nodding once before moving on down the line without a backwards glance. That is all it takes for him to feel like a child again, bumbling and blushing and completely forgettable.

**Author's Note:**

> An International Day of Slash fic for Esteliel. Musical inspiration from Zhie: "Oh L'Amour" and "Reunion" by Erasure.


End file.
